Last week I went to say goodbye to the house.
We had some unfinished business.
I didn't leave on my own terms. You know how things go.
Everything was gone, except a few candles and some real estate books my mother kept lying around. "Everything I Touch Turns to Sold"
I know it wasn't my home.
But you were still there.
You were there like a patch of fog on an early Sunday morning in SF.
I walked through you into the backyard.
No dogs.
No noise.
And then I saw it.
Daisies.
They had grown right where...
I looked around to see if there were anymore more daisies like them.
none.
I'm not sure if you were ever comfortable with that spot where I kept you
Or if you just wanted to explore
but like a little girl with a bird
I could have suffocated you with two much kindness
letting you walk only so far
but not far enough.
I wanted you with me.
Did you resent me for that?
I walked over to the daisies.
They grew right where you died
You must have known they were my favorite.
Of course you did.
No comments:
Post a Comment